We started on about religion, specifically Satanism.

I said: " I've always thought of Satanists to be the epitome of idiocy, a collection of embittered fools who love and cherish their bitterness so much that they buy into a fable constructed to address their all-too-human anxiety of death and need for moral structure, except these morons buy into it inversely, i.e. they bow their dull heads to a hierarchy of power that places them on its lowest rung. Now I could be wrong, but if you're going to believe a moralistic fable, wouldn't you want to be in its most privileged sector?

Satanists are like the residents of a mansion determined to live in its septic tank, exclusively.

And I've never heard of a sadder, stupider group of individuals. I'm certain the Marquis would agree."

And he replied: "I said Satanism, not Satanists."

And I: "What I said can be applied to either. Satanists created Satanism, which further created clones of its creators. And all are imbeciles."

And he: "Of course, you could also apply that to the followers of any religion."

And I: "I suppose. But I don't think all religions are inherently moronic. Flawed? Sure. But I wouldn't call Buddhists, for example, morons."

And he: "I believe that you have no soul. You are a body for someone to take control over. Just make sure that someone is always you."

And I: "Even your staunch atheism is a religion my friend. Humans are a religious animal. The lack of belief is itself a belief, an existential roadmap believed to be the very verisimilitude of the living terrain you transverse. Except it's no more real than an actual roadmap, whose accuracy is always eroded by the ravages of time upon the real world it seeks to imitate. A mountain will collapse here, a road is destroyed there, but your tightly gripped map remains unmarred. It is no more an absolute guide, a truth, than the one used by those jackasses bowing before a mythical celestial father, or even the one used by those pathetic morons believing in Him, but worshiping His negation.

Which is why I say: just run wild with it. Go to Montana and join a UFO cult. Climb up the highest mountain and self-immolate to send a clear bright signal to the gods that you, above all others, are their ever-devoted child. Drop acid and convince yourself you ARE god. Just do it. Buy ridiculous amounts of Nike shoes and show up at their corporate headquarters with the receipts in a leather-bound folder entitled The Great American Bible. Unleash your ego against the secret self-knowing of your own infinitesimal existence, the reducto absurdum of all heart beating mystery, the whispers that we tell ourselves in the all-consuming inkblot of dark dark lonely nights."

And that's it. My random daily log.